As Autumn Leaves Decay
by BluePhyre
Summary: Won 2nd place in vicky199416's challenge. It must have been his own weakness that he saw in me, for he closed the distance between us, sitting on the side of my deathbed to take my hand within his. "Father?" "It is not time," I answered. "Not yet."


**Disclaimer: The Harry Potter series is not mine. Neither is the hymn this title is inspired by :3**

Made as an entry to vicky199416's Happiest Moment challenge final round. This one was to settle a tie- and I did Lucius' death as my topic. It came pretty simply, so I hope you guys enjoy it. If you want to read my first entry, it's titled From the Ashes and also lists vicky199416's name, but it's not necessary to understand this timeline.

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><p>"Read it to me again." The words scratched at my throat as they rose, but they seemed to hurt Draco more. I could recognize easily the crease between his eyebrows, the defensive drawing back of his lips, the telltale catch in his throat. Tears had never been becoming on my son, though they were frequently with him these days. Once more I watched him clear his throat and glare down at the roll of parchment gripped tightly between his sweaty palms.<p>

"My father died as he lived," he croaked unbecomingly, shaking as he switched one hand from the parchment to cling to mine, "a refined man. H-he was blessed… with a long life…"

The stumbling in his voice was simply unbearable, though somewhat rehearsed. After multiple repetitions, his voice tended to break in the same places, and stifled sobs punctuated the eulogy just the same as they had the many times before. The first recitation at my command, he hadn't cried. But that had been the day before last, when my condition was announced to the world and I was less… hideous.

There wasn't a time when my hair wasn't the silvery blonde blanket down my back that I could make out in the mirror- Draco had risen and paced before it now, still reciting what was quickly becoming a dewy-eyed rhetoric. However, the man below the steady hairline- me- looked, admittedly, less that spectacular. It was a hard concept to accept, as beauty had always been one of my closest companions. But, given my fate, it was almost acceptable to die, for the lack of a better word, ugly.

"… miss his guiding knowledge…" Draco glanced to me mid-sentence, eyes looking for more than I could offer: support. "… and his guiding hand…" It must have been his own weakness that he saw in me, for he closed the distance between us quickly, sitting on the side of my deathbed to take my hand within his. Perhaps he assumed my stillness in thought to be my departure from the world. "Father…?"

"It is not time," I answered to his tentative tenor. I let my eyes wander from where they had snapped to his furrowed brow. I looked to the window instead where the seasons changed; winter approached swiftly. It was the suffering in Draco's silver eyes that made holding the gaze unbearable. They were my own, and while I knew I had held the same expression watching dear Abraxas wither, I did not want it for him. I had tried hard not to make him lost. Such a grown man should never be so lost. "Read the paragraph about your mother again. You ought to practice proper annunciation, Draco."

And then, it was as if something that had been sitting within my son for quite some time combusted, destroying the man I had molded him into to fit my own image. Now, the masterpiece of cold, gentlemanly poise reduced to the collected chaos of a boy's tantrum. Such uncivilized emotion riled in his face, curling his lips and reddening his ears and cheeks, and he began to yell his fury.

"You are intolerable!" he shrieked and dropped my hand, pacing back in the sheer power of his own explosive temper. "Insufferable! Absolutely cold-hearted!" He stopped only to suck a breath between his teeth. "You are a cruel man! You push and push and push until everyone around you just… snaps!" Spittle gathered in the corners of his prude, pouting lips- the same lips Cissa had- as he hissed each crudely sharpened word to wound me just so. Despite the grimace that had bloomed in retaliation on my reflection in the mirror, his attacks simply didn't work. My son was not the man barking petty insults at me, he had simply lost control. I thought perhaps it would be best to allow him this victory; he could believe he made me falter if he so wished.

"Well, I've snapped, Father!" Draco ground his teeth and stomped his feet, and I murmured a tired "Indeed' in affirmation of his keen observation. Then, Draco's eyes became cruel and a malicious idea crept into his mind. As he braced his hands on opposing sides of the panegyric I intended him to read at my funeral, I saw the metaphorical wheels turn in his head too late. With a swift jerk of his wrists, it was torn in two. "I refuse to read your bullshit! I refuse to speak at all! No one's coming to your funeral anyway, Father. No one gives a damn about you anymore! Not since- not since Mother died!"

It was a defeated young man that yelled at me, tired with his loathsome lot in life. It was a boy with no sense of responsibility that blamed me for his problems- the emotional detachment that destroyed his marriage, the enemies he still had from his years at Hogwarts, and all the scars he bore from my cane and others'. It was a broken soul that could wail and bemoan his own regrets as I laid upon my deathbed. It was my son, though, that, as he flourished his arms in anger, still wore his old wedding ring. I had not noticed it, even as he held my hand, or even in the years before, though it had been nearly a decade since he had been made a bachelor once more. He was my image, and I was alone. Draco was alone. As I glanced down to my own left hand, the wedding band there was easy for my waning eyesight to catch. It was familiar. I would not be alone for much longer, but Draco would be. And he would endure, as I had endured. He would continue on, as I had continued on. And I was proud… Quite proud.

And then a smile stretched my lips. The world was dim, and the end was not undesirable as I had thought it would be. Eternal life was not triumph, death was not defeat. This would not be my end, but my continuation. No one could live forever- not even the Dark Lord. Though, he had wanted to live forever… for he had never loved. That was his deepest fault, perhaps, certainly the cause of his death. Love was necessary within the family and within spouses. I loved Cissa. I would not be bitter. Never…

"No!" Draco yelped. He was no longer angry, but watched the light in my eyes wane. I, too, watched him fade. "Please, Father… Please! I'm s-"

And then there was nothing except her smile.

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><p>I hope there's no real confusion; Narcissa died a while ago and Astoria divorced Draco. I imagine it was only a year or so after Scorpius was born, so don't fear; Draco's not an old coot in this :P I wouldn't do that. I love him too much. But Lucius IS old, and he aged gracefully. And he wrote the speech he wants Draco to read at his funeral, since he knew he was dying... And he was making Draco practice it in front of him as he died slowly. I hope that cleared any confusion up- I didn't want to come right out and hand everything to you within the story. Now, not so much. I hope you liked itttt! I like reviews. A lot. You should leave one. Yes, you. Leave one. Validate this piece for me. I seek your appreciation, stranger!<p>

But either way, thanks for the read, and have a lovely day :) I'd like it if you went to my profile and read some of my newer stuff! :D I'm not totally embarrassed by some of it! That's always a plus.


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